


the fried pickles of my heart

by lavenderlotion



Series: a man in love with a pure heart (someone above sent me a work of art) [3]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26357812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: “Can ve get two vaters for now, zen ve vill look over ze menu,” Kurt’s voice is as prim and proper as ever. He smiles without showing his teeth because some people don’t like his fangs even though Peter loves them, they’re so fucking cute oh my god, who wouldn’t love them, and the lady looks at him and opens her mouth but then doesn’t say anything, phew.Peter doesn’t want to have to fight an old lady. It’s a Sunday, after all.
Relationships: Pietro Maximoff/Kurt Wagner
Series: a man in love with a pure heart (someone above sent me a work of art) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1644709
Comments: 30
Kudos: 84





	the fried pickles of my heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [librata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/librata/gifts).



> For the prompt: _”deep fried pickles, any pairing”_

Peter’s foot is bouncing a mile a minute under the diner’s table, his thigh slapping against the booth’s leather seat. His fingers are tapping out two different rhythms—one erratically on his thigh and the other just as erratically on the glass-topped table—but he’s moving his fingers too fast to create a beat. He takes a deep breath and tries to calm down again but he can’t, not right now, not in this place. 

“I am  _ so _ excited,” he gushes, unable to keep himself from looking around the diner he grew up in and breathing in the greasy smell of  _ home. _ “I used to spend, like, all of my time here! I’d come here after school and hang out and watch people or sometimes I’d do homework—” 

Kurt cuts him off to add, with a pretty smile on his prettier face, “You did not do homework, Herzschlag.”

“I did not do homework,” Peter agrees, moving right along, “but I would come here to hang out ‘cause they had the  _ best _ food ever! Seriously I spent so much time here in high school when the girls were real young ‘cause that’s when they were the most  _ annoying, _ ya know, ‘cause they never did anything fun and they just cried a whole lot.”

“I do not zink zat is true,” Kurt says, smiling at him warmly. Kurt’s smiles are almost  _ always _ warm and Peter loves them all, each and every one, but especially the ones that Kurt saves for him and not anyone else. Those are the best smiles  _ ever.  _ “Your sisters are alike tiny angels.”

Peter snorts,  _ loud _ and rocks back in his seat. Barely a second later, an older lady that Peter can kinda recognize when he squints comes up to them with a smile on her face that Peter doesn’t really believe but isn’t going to question. Their whole trip to Peter’s town to see Peter’s birthplace was for Kurt—Kurt wanted to know more about him even though Peter told him there wasn’t too much to tell but...

Kurt didn’t grow up somewhere like Peter did. Kurt was in the circus and then he was in the rings and then he was at the school. Peter has a whole  _ town _ and Kurt doesn’t, doesn’t have anything, not like Peter does so he doesn’t mind showing Kurt even if he didn't want to come back. Coming back was for Kurt and the food and the food here was  _ good.  _ It was just a bonus that getting good food meant that Peter got a much-needed break from his mom and all of her  _ looks _ and the  _ questions _ and trying to make them stay in different bedrooms, seriously, what the  _ hell  _ was up with that? Peter was a grown man, kinda-sorta, and he and his  _ significant other _ didn’t need to stay in different beds, that was just  _ weird, _ but she wouldn’t listen or budge or— 

“You two want anythin’?” the lady asks, and Peter snaps his eyes up to Kurt to find the boy he’s in love with, so in love with, staring at him with a smile.

“Ja. Can ve get two vaters for now, zen ve vill look over ze menu,” Kurt’s voice is as prim and proper as ever. He smiles without showing his teeth because some people don’t like his fangs even though Peter  _ loves _ them, they’re so fucking cute oh my god, who  _ wouldn’t _ love them, and the lady looks at him and opens her mouth but then doesn’t say anything, phew. 

Peter doesn’t want to have to fight an old lady. It’s a Sunday, after all. 

Old lady (who doesn’t have a name tag on) walks away without saying anything else so Peter doesn’t say anything either and instead he looks at Kurt and falls more in love with him. Somehow. He already loves Kurt with everything he is and everything he isn’t and everything he was and will be, and he loves Kurt even more here, when it smells like grease and Kurt is illuminated with a shitty light bulb and smiling at Peter like none of it matters. 

Peter pulls his eyes away from Kurt’s face, which is like the hardest thing ever, ‘cause he always wants to be looking at Kurt no matter what else is going on or what they’re doing and when he  _ can’t _ look at Kurt it, like, totally sucks. Instead of looking at Kurt, Peter looks at his menu, which is  _ way _ uglier, and scans the  _ “Sides” _ to make sure what he wants is still on the menu. 

“O—o-oh,” Peter sings, drumming his hands on the table as he starts bouncing in place. “We have to get an order of their pickles!”

“Vat is so special about zeir pickles?” Kurt asks him, studying the menu way too closely since it’s just a menu and not, like, homework or something. God, he’s so  _ adorable _ that Peter’s chest aches with it. 

“Baby,” Peter says, pointing to where Kurt’s menu is also showing  _ “Sides” _ and then tapping against the  _ “Jumbo Deep-Fried Pickles”  _ before he explains, “this place makes the best deep-fried pickles in the  _ entire world!” _

Kurt blinks. He closes his eyes, hiding away his pretty yellow irises, and shakes his head. His hair is a little long and really curly and it bounces around his head, which is freaking adorable. “Vat is zis... deep-fried pickle?”

“What?”

“Vat?”

“What?” Peter asks again, shaking his head to clear his scattered thoughts and make sense of what Kurt is saying because it absolutely  _ does not make sense at all.  _

“Vy... vould you deep fry a pickle?” Kurt asks him right back. 

“You mean to tell me you  _ haven’t _ had a deep-fried pickle?” Peter cries, falling against the back of his chair and clapping his hands together over his heart as he tries for the most put upon face he can physically muster—which, seeing as how Kurt has never had  _ deep-fried pickles _ really isn’t that hard. Peter takes a deep breath and looks at Kurt with as much betrayal as he can muster as he asks, “And I  _ love _ you?!”

Kurt’s face goes through shock, surprise, and dismay before settling on outrage so fast that Peter is actually pretty impressed. “No! You did the proposing and you said zere vere no take backs!”

Peter launches across the table and grabs Kurt’s hands in his own, pressing his pelvis sorta painfully against the booth so that he can smack their lips together in a loud, smooching kiss that probably gets them so looks, but Peter’s never cared about them and Kurt stopped caring about after, like, a year of them dating so it’s totally cool. Hearing Kurt say  _ “proposing” _ is doing all sorts of crazy things to Peter’s heart, and it starts racing so fast it kind of feels like it’s going to explode in the  _ best _ way. 

Kurt giggles against his lips which is like the sweetest noise  _ ever  _ so Peter kisses him a few more times before he settles back in his seat. 

“Baby, I’m telling you, these things are gonna knock you’re freaking socks off.”

“But... I don’t vant my socks to be knocked off. My feet vould get cold,” Kurt says, totally seriously, like he doesn’t know that he’s driving Peter  _ crazy _ and that he loves him more every goddamn second. 

“Will you marry me?” Peter asks, again, because he can, because he doesn’t have to bite the words back and trap them behind his teeth. 

“I already am,” Kurt reminds him, and Peter smiles so wide his cheeks ache.

* * *

“Are you... sure zat I can eat zis?” Kurt asks and Peter nods his head so fast it blurs out of focus. Kurt meets his eyes before he looks, very pointedly, in Peter’s opinion, down at the  _ giant _ plate of deep-fried pickles, seeing as Peter ordered, like, ten orders worth of pickles. “I am not so sure.”

“Aw c’mon!” Peter whines, picking up another pickle and taking a big bite. His teeth break through the crunchy, peppery batter. Delicious, sour dill juice bursts against his tongue. Warm, yummy amazingness slides down his throat and he hums, so happy. “You can totally eat it! Look,” Peter says, then eats four more in the span of seconds, “I’m eating them!

Kurt still looks very skeptical, so Peter asks, “Have I ever led you astray?” and then mimes zipping his mouth shut at the look Kurt gives him. 

Understandable. There was the bubble bath incident. And the pool incident. And the totally-not-permanent-permanent-ink incident. There’ve been... a lot of incidents, so Peter totally gets why Kurt doesn’t totally trust him but, like,  _ c’mon. _ They’re in love! They’re getting married! They’re  _ fiancés!  _ Peter isn’t going to poison him before the wedding, gosh. 

Hopefully, Kurt understands that and doesn’t think that Peter is out to kill him via deep fried yumminess, since he picks up a pickle. He brings it up to his face to look at instead of eating it, and his eyebrows crease really deeply until he looks all scrunched up and confused but still totally like the most beautiful thing Peter has ever seen. Kurt brings the pickle even closer and he sniffs it, ‘cause he’s the cutest, and then he takes a bite and—

He spits his bite across the table and it hits Peter’s eyebrow!

“Zis is disgusting! Peter, vhy vould you do zis to me? I zought you  _ loved _ me!” 

Peter bursts out laughing and his heart swells and swells and swells, until it feels too big for his chest and like it’s going to burst apart, but like it doesn’t even matter because Kurt would be there to bring all the little pieces of him back together and love him whole again. He reaches out to grab the hand that Kurt’s not frantically using to wipe a napkin over his tongue and he presses his thumb against the cool metal of the ring he put there and he thinks... 

Well, he’s glad he came home. Even if it was just for Kurt.  _ Especially _ because it was just for Kurt. 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> kudos aren’t the same as getting a comment, not even close. so a comment, as short and sweet or as sprawling and sporadic as you can manage, would be _greatly_ appreciated! don't know what to comment? how about _”this was great!”_ or _“awesome work!”_


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